


dear theodosia,

by Anonymous



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: I will hurt Wilbur >:), Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Multi, Next Time on 'I Didn't Know I was Pregnant!', Other, Sally is.. Not human, Techno is not a part of SBI, Trans Male Character, Trans Wilbur Soot, Unplanned Pregnancy, Wilbur Soot is Floris | Fundy's Parent, Wilbur Soot is Not Okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29690403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: what to say to you?-(wilbur wasn't ready for this. for any of it.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot/Sal The Salmon, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 18
Kudos: 86
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To elaborate! 
> 
> Sally's a fish. Not only are most fish gender-fluid, most swim upstream after laying their clutches. Or die. It's not that they didn't want to be around, it's just not in their nature to.
> 
> Da'rren is Badboyhalo. Zephyr is Skeppy. Teek is Techno. Tumnus is Tubbo. Generally, all the names are gonna be scrambled up, because I feel weird using gamer tags, but weirder using names. Wilbur/anyone who used their real name is the exception.

A warm breeze shakes the trees and ripples the water of the river as Wilbur idly strums his guitar, the sound hanging in the air as the man swayed. His heart is full, today, in a way it hasn't been for a long while. And looking up at him with an adoring look, his lover, shapeshifter and master of magicks, is the reason for this newfound peace. With a soft smile, Wilbur leans down, laughing into Sal's mouth as they nip at him eagerly, chirring their eagerness. 

"Sal, come on, I've got to return home soon." He chides fondly, and they pout, tugging his arms. "It'll be night and I've never been good at fighting." 

"Just once, love of mine." Sally purrs, "Then you can be off on your way. You know how I hate to watch you go."

Wilbur obliges, with no fight. Slipping off his threadbare yellow sweater, and black trousers, he sinks into the water with them, almost immediately enveloped by their tail and hungry hands. Pressed against the bank, Wilbur lets himself get lost in the sensations, moans hanging in the air the same as music notes.

It ends up going far beyond once, until Wilbur is stuffed and sated, too weak to tread water on his own, and held in a tight embrace by his lover. Groggily, he presses slow, warm kisses across Sal's neck and face, calmed by their rumbling purrs.

He doesn't make it home until the next morning, when the dawn just barely begins to break the cloud. 

Wilbur pads quietly through the house, hoping to sleep for a few days to make up for all the energy he'd lost, eyes drooping, and knees still feeling distinctly like jelly. As he approaches his bed, a voice pipes up from behind, startling him.

"Wil. Where were we?" His father's voice is cautious, filled with fatherly concern and a certain note of frustration. The musician winces, and turns around, clearing his throat.

"At a friend's." He croaks, guiltily brushing himself off, hoping the activities of his late night weren't obvious to Phil, who simply raises an eyebrow. "Er... You may not know them, I don't think you do, at least.." He is poised to continue, before the man cuts him off with a crushing hug.

The younger gladly accepts, smiling absently at the way his father's wings embrace him. 

"I'm proud of you, you know." Phil says quietly. "Tommy told me you've stayed clean this summer."

Ignoring the lump in his throat becomes significantly harder, but Wilbur manages, only releasing a little sniffle.

"I don't often say it, and, Gods know I should have been a better father. I should have been around more, but... You have done so well, Wilbur. I want you to know I'm going to do my best to be here for you, and Tommy, and Tumnus as well." Phil continues, and the house is so warm. He is so warm. "Whatever you need." 

Wilbur doesn't trust his words, but he nods shakily, arms encircling Phil's middle, clinging. Phil rests his chin against his son's head, rocking him as the sun starts to filter through the windows, holding him through the wave of emotion.

It's a few moments before Phil lets him go, ruffling his hair, and watching as he sleepily protests, batting at the arm. "Get some rest, yeah?"

Wilbur smiles. As soon as his head hits the pillow, he's out. He's blissfully unaware of what's coming, of what's brewing inside him. All he knows is the sheer happiness the summer had brought him.

All good things must come to an end eventually. 

The weeks pass by, and the once warm breeze has turned cool. Sal takes longer to broach the surface, and spends less time there. At first, Wilbur pays it no mind, still infatuated and stupid with the notions of love and 'forever.' But, it becomes much clearer as it gets colder. What was once warm and safe was now cold and cut-off. Sally no longer has sweet words or lingering soft touches for him, and with each meeting, his heart grows heavier. 

One evening, they don't surface. Wilbur waits, but hours tick by, and there is no sign of the shifter.

Wilbur returns home with a broken heart.

-

It's winter now. Wilbur dreads the cold, and the snow, and the anxiety that comes with the season. It stems from the fact that most winters, his father would leave him to go on long crusades with his pupil, Teek. When the musician was much younger, he'd resented the piglin for taking so much of his father's attention, but had then formed a strange bond with him after their first meeting, as unlikely to be friends as they were inseparable.

He's nursing a mug of tea when Phil notices, pressing a cold hand to his forehead. "Ah, poor dear, you are flushed." He hums, "Bit of a fever?"

Wilbur makes a tired noise. "I think I'm dying of a broken heart."

Phil snorts, stoking the wood-fire as he begins to prepare a slow-boiling stew. "Don't let Tommy hear you say that, he'll rip the bugger who broke it's face off."

"You know, I wish he would." Wilbur snorts drily, and Phil sighs softly, taking a seat across from him. 

"You love with everything in you. It's a wonder you still have so much to give." Phil begins hesitantly, "Listen, I didn't know this.. Sal. But if they've truly left you high and dry like this, perhaps it's for the better. People who are just going to use you up have no place in your heart." 

Wilbur can feel the tears welling up. When he brings the mug to his lips, it shakes. 

Phil pats his shoulder reassuringly.

-

The next day,Wilbur is hunched over the pot, retching the remains of the stew into it, coughing and spitting. It burns his throat, and he wants nothing more to curl up and snivel about it for the rest of the day, as exhausted as he was. But, he had to get up. His brothers were visiting, for once, and he was determined to show them around, and try to steal back some of his own happiness.

Holding his middle, he bends back over. He'd get through this. He has to.

After scrubbing the stench of sick off of him in scalding water, Wilbur sets out to find his brothers. He doesn't need to look far, as Tommy's boisterous laughter is audible from inside the house, though he had to be at least 3 meters down. It brings a fond smile to his face.

"Men!" He steps out, intercepting them with a smile. They both sprint to meet him, excitement plain on their faces. Oh, it had been worth dragging his aching body out of bed. "How've we been?"

They are quick to engage him in conversation, and distract him from the discomfort the whole way there, with their rambling and occasional fights. Once within the market, he finds himself lost, separated from his brothers, and incredibly warm and uncomfortable. Irrational fear begins to set in. Why can't he find them?

"Tumnus? Tommy?" Wilbur calls down a less crowded section of the market, hoping to find his little brothers. He collides straight into a tall, imposing-looking Nether species. Wilbur's mouth goes dry, and he's startled, before he hears the most apologetic 'hrrrn' of distress.

"Oh! Oh, oh my goodness, I'm so sorry,sir." What an ironically gentle voice from a figure so frightening. "Are you alright, you don't look well?"

"I've.. I've gotta.. Find them." His voice falters, wavering in strength. He barely registers two warm hands steadying him, another concerned person peering out from behind the tall, kind stranger. "Tumnus? Toby?"

"Wilbur!" Is shouted back to him, and he looks around, trying to move towards the sound, before the hands on his arms catch him.

"Sir, wait, you're going to make yourself sick.." 

Wilbur blinks, stumbling slightly. Had the Netherean in front of him had _four_ horns originally? He distantly hears his name being called, and the gentle voice is sounding frightened now. His head is spinning far too fast for him to understand anything, but he tries. It's all murky, and keeping his eyes open is like fighting a losing battle. 

So, with no warning, Wilbur faints.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you can't already tell, this deviates from canon a little bit. I'm a slut for BBH, and I want more content of him because he's an absolute cutie. Also, there's two real 'ship' ideas I had ft. Wilbur, which are hinted at here. Drop whichever one you'd like to see more honestly.

Images fade in and out of Wilbur's vision. A sea of crimson and horned angels, the familiar glint of Shifter jewelry under the water, around his wrists and ankles, and a little, squirming bundle of cries.

The fever dreams stretch his internal clock's hands out, until he isn't sure what day it is, or whether it even is day anymore. Through it all, the gentle voice from the market speaks to him, soothing his whimpers, as well as another's, claws scritch his hair. His grieving heart is reminded of Sal.

When he finally wakes, he's in an unfamiliar cot. It's set up in the corner of what appears to be a makeshift infirmary, with a wash basin, and a little pile of his coat, and other belongings. He groans, and props himself onto his elbows, immediately swaying as he feels the need to vomit.

"Oh, Oh! Gosh, I'm so sorry, one second!" The sweet voice from his dreams whisper-yells, frantically shoving a bucket into his hands. He empties his stomach into it, feeling the same cool hand hold his shaggy curls back.

"Ah.. That should be the last of it." The Netherean grimaces, removing the bucket. "How are you feeling?"

"Fucking horrid." He rasps. Wilbur looks around, noticing a green-and-white hat has been hung on one of the chairs. "Is..?"

"I don't like naughty language, but you've had a rough go of it, so.. I can't really blame you." He heaves a sigh, and nods, "Yep. Mr. Craft left to escort your brothers home. Um.. A piglin named Teek should be by with a change of clothes and you'll be free to go." The demon's tail curls worriedly behind him, and he pats Wilbur's face lightly, "He said you'd know him."

"Yeah, he's my.. something." Wilbur mumbles. "Sorry, what did you say your name was?"

"Da'rren." He smiles slightly, "You're Wilbur." He stands to retrieve a tray on the far-side of the wall. And it's then that Wilbur notices how tall the man is. The tips of his horns brush the ceiling, and his tail could wind around the musician's waist several times. Da'rren was quite literally a gentle giant. It brings a delirious grin to Wilbur's face.

Said man is handed a mug of tea, and they lapse into silence for a bit, before Da'rren begins hesitantly, "So.. Wilbur, um. Are you and Teek.. together? Obviously, zero judgement, I just need to know, I saw some concern.." 

Wilbur cuts him off by choking on his tea, coughing heavily. "No! Um, no. No, me and Teek are not together." 

"Oh. Well. Did you have somebody you were," a blush spreads across the other's face, "Intimate with? Recently." At the question, his tail moves the mug he's been holding back to the tray, and encircles his own ankle. 

Wilbur looks down at his mug, his face visible in the rippling reflection. He looks like shit. Clearing his throat, he replies with, "Yes. I had a partner but we are no longer together. I've.. I actually. I never heard from them."

Somehow, the absolute stuffed animal of a man next to him softens even more, and makes a sad little chirpy noise. "I'm so sorry. This is gonna be really hard to hear, but, is there anyway you can get back into contact?"

"Why?"

"You're pregnant." Da'rren admits finally. Wilbur sits in stunned silence.

"What?" He asks weakly, hoping to Prime that he had just heard Da'rren wrong.

"You're pregnant." He shifts, "About a month along, I think. The baby's healthy, and very, very strong. That's why I thought it might've been Teek, because, well, you just don't see regular babies sapping life force like this.. Gosh, I, I really am so sorry to be the one to tell you." 

Wilbur can't think. He doesn't want to.

Pregnant.

He's pregnant. Sal's baby is growing inside him. Sal's baby is going to be with him forever, a tiny life within his hands. He lets one hand rest over his stomach. 

"Wait." Wilbur tries to clear his muddled thoughts, "What did you say about life-force?"

Da'rren puffs out a breath. "Well, being human, it's hard for your body to accommodate the sheer amount of energy this kid needs to grow. They are starting to drink your energy as well. It happens with human pregnancies on a smaller scale." He explains calmly. "I don't know if I'd say I'm a 'midwife' but I consult on a lot of the medical happenings here. I've seen piglin hybrids so I just.. assumed this was a piglin hybrid. I.. Wow, that's so rude. I am gonna stop talking."

Wilbur shakes his head, bewildered, "No. No, um, you are fine. You're an angel, actually. Thank you, for helping me." 

Da'rren smiles at him gently, "Of course. You don't need to thank me at all. I'm here for you."

Something in him breaks. He surges forward and the Netherean is opening his arms, before embracing him. Wilbur heaves heavy sobs into the fabric of his tunic, tired and incredibly upset. 

Da'rren murmurs to him, rocking him gently. "Oh, there we go, lots of big feelings." He rubs circles on Wilbur's back, "There we go..."

"Wh.. What am I gonna do?" Wilbur cough-sobs, "I'm never gonna see them again, a-and I can't, I can't raise a baby by myself, I can't, I'm gonna be a horrible parent." He rambles, and Da'rren hums soothingly.

"You won't be alone. You'll have your brothers, and your father, and Teek, and me." Da'rren offers, "You'll have that lovely girl Niki. And your friend, I think his name is Jaylor?"

Wilbur dissolves into more sobs, interspersed with hiccups. The hand never leaves his back, though the stain on the other's tunic grows larger. "What if I fuck this kid up as much as I am fucked up?"

Da'rren pulls back for a minute, and lets Wilbur swipe at his face to dry it. "There'll be people to help you, no matter what you choose, whether it's to keep the baby or something else." Wilbur shakes his head vigorously at the mention of 'something else.' 

"I want this baby. I always wanted kids but.. I just.. It's so sudden and the other parent isn't there, it's so much to think about."

"You don't have to take it all on right now, Wilbur." Gently, Da'rren hugs the still-shaking man. "You need your rest. Your fever only just broke. You have time to think about all this, I promise you."

They lapse into a hesitant silence, broken only by the slow purrs Da'rren emitted, to try and set Wilbur at ease. Neither of them speak again, comfortable in the quiet, but a door creaks open, heralding the arrival of others.

A diamond-studded man stands in the landing, flanked by Phil and Teek, who both have too much armor on to look comfortable in the soft, welcoming house. Da'rren lights up at the appearance of the other man, holding an arm out. Diamond man grins, and pads forward, embracing the Netherean.

"Zeph." Da'rren murmurs, and the two nuzzle each-other. It's sweet. It reminds Wilbur of Sal, and the ache begins anew in his chest. He sits up, and scrubs at his eyes again.

"Hey, Phil. Hey, Teek."Wilbur greets, voice warbling. Phil is on him in seconds, arms tightly around him. Teek, shockingly, is there moments later. It's cold and all hard-edges due to weapons and armor, but Wilbur makes up for it with the residual warmth of his fever. He tries to wrap an arm around them both. 

"Will," Phil's voice is shakey, "I was so worried. You alright?" It's a wordless acknowledgment, and Wilbur's thankful he doesn't have to talk about the thing in his womb with his father. Just objectively.

"Not, uh, not especially. But. I'm gonna be." He tries for a laugh, cringing as it turns into a sob. Teek snuffles his hair, a piglin gesture generally meant to soothe, the same way one would kiss the top of a child's head. He whines at this, it's too sweet, it hurts.

"That's right, you are gonna be ok. Everything's gonna be fine." Phil responds.His wings come up, and Wilbur notices that during all the commotion, Da'rren and Zephyr had moved to the doorway, not wanting to intrude on a personal moment. He offers Da'rren a mouthed thank-you, and receives a nod back. 

It's still too much for him to fathom, but with his family, his friends there, he could figure this out. Wilbur would figure this out.

-

The next day, he discovers that they intend to ship him off.

"What? Why, why can't I stay here?" Wilbur cries, clutching his bag of items, looking at Phil with heartbroken, watery eyes, "Please?"

"It's about your safety, kid." Phil says softly, "What if somethinghappens while I'm away? And nobody comes to check on you, or they can't, for whatever reason?"

"I am perfectly capable of fighting anything off." Wilbur insists stubbornly. Phil pinches the bridge of his nose. The argument continues like this for a while, as Tommy and Tumnus were still out, and would be for a while yet. Tumnus (bless him) was the only one of the two that really knew, and had shyly asked if Wilbur thought he'd be a good uncle. Wilbur had to pretend that wasn't the most endearing thing he'd ever heard, and nod, composed. Fucking hormones. 

It ends in tears, both Phil and Wilbur's, and the compromise is to live with Teek, who's more than willing to open his house for Wilbur. Nobody had seen the piglin like this, so concerned and territorial, but it eased Phil's worries for Wilbur's safety, and despite everything, Wilbur quite liked Teek.

So, he isn't quite sure why he's still stood outside the snowy cottage nervously.

Logically, he knows he just needs to knock, and Teek will answer, usher him in, and they'll find something to do, some way to just.. put this out of mind for a bit. But something holds Wilbur back, whether it's the desire to just, let himself be buried in the oncoming blizzard, or the desire for things to just be normal again. Before this baby. Before Sal.

His thoughts swirl around him like falling snow. Before he can let himself think anymore, the heavy spruce door swings open, and Teek peers down at him in concern. "Will, you are gonna freeze. Get inside." His deadpan is a grounding sound, and Wilbur stumbles in, shaking himself off. 

And to his surprise, it isn't awkward. Teek is exactly the way he was during their hang-outs before this all began, easy to laugh with, easy to talk with. 

Finally, with stew sitting heavily in his stomach, they curl up on the couch. There's a radio playing somewhere in the room, the sound is muffled, but the music is familiar. It reminds him of winter nights with Teek, who, as a child, had a horrible fear of the cold. It reminded him of his father, and the stories he reserved for nights like these, where the wind howled and the snow swirled in dizzying patterns.

It's good. 

Wilbur's safe.

Teek makes a little snorting noise, "You look tired."

Suppressing a yawn, Wilbur nods, beginning to lean into the piglin, who lets out a confused 'heeeh?'. Wilbur laughs tiredly.

"This baby isn't getting any easier to be pregnant with." He mumbles, "Let me sleep." 

Teek softens at that. God, he is too whipped for Phil's sons.

'smells good.' Khaat comments helpfully in his head, as he leans his head against Wilbur's, 'warm, safe, nest, make nest, keep safe.' It chants. Grunting, Teek blinks as hard as he can to clear Khaat's influence.

"No. Wilbur is absolutely NOT our mate, Khaat." He expresses frantically in his head. "We won't be making anything. He's fucking pregnant, he's got someone."

Khaat huffs collectively. It's more of a multitude than it is another person, but they all seem displeased with this. 'bad mate, leaving him alone.' 'wilbabe :).' 'keep safe and warm.'

Teek sighs heavily. And obliges himself this one comfort in uncertainty.

An arm wraps around Wilbur, holding him close to the warmth and solidity of his companion. 

-

The next month passes quickly, and they enter the deep-freeze of winter. Teek was luckily a skilled farmer, able to keep his potatoes and carrots alive. He huffs, picking at a tusk as he glances through the window to the house, where yellow light floods out onto the snow, and he can make out Wilbur's silhouette, accompanied by the bakery girl, Niki. 

It wasn't that Teek disapproved of the company his 'roomie' kept. He knew the other man needed the support more than ever, and honestly, he quite liked Niki as well. She made this incredible Crimson danish, something so earthly made from his home of the Nether, he would kill and die for the woman on that alone. But, he's getting lost in his thoughts now.It wasn't any of that, but it was his own anxiety getting the better of him. 

Teek was painfully aware of his appearance and social shortcomings. The piglin didn't think his presence was required, or wanted, by Wilbur's companions. He'd certainly felt that way when Schlatt had shown his face. The hostility the faun had shown had him wondering if they would have to butt heads, while Wilbur looked on in annoyed awe.

Wilbur was doing better now these days, and had actually begun showing. Teek would never get over that. Thecurve to the man's stomach was hardly noticeable, hidden under baggy sweaters, and behind his guitar, which seemed to always be on his person. However, when the young man noticed, he'd immediately hollered for Teek, who came rushing in.

"Teek!" He'd exclaimed, shirt rucked just below his bandages, "Fucking, fucking look at this." Wilbur's hand was warm as it grabbed his, bringing it to his stomach. "Baby chamber." He'd cackled, eyes glinting just so.

Teek would forever deny how much he wanted to kiss him in that moment. He simply snorted, and shook his head. "Weirdchamp."

Now, of course, the jumpers were starting to show the curve as well. 

Teek is dragged from his thoughts by the sound of Wilbur calling his name. The man tosses his hoe to the side, trekking back up the path to the house. When he reaches there, Niki is shoving a pastry in his hand, as he makes a disgruntled little 'hrr?' 

"You're always out there." Wilbur answers without looking up. They've gotten to know each-other's unconscious noises, enough to almost have a full conversation in just chirps and hums. "Come in, it's literally your house, you mess."

Teek shoved the pastry in his face and tried to ignore the way his heart swells.

Wilbur smiles faintly. 

Niki laughs at the scene. She knew Will. She knew what that smile met intimately. Shouldering her basket, she hands off a few potions, and kisses Wilbur's cheek. After a moment, she kisses her fingers andpresses it to Teek's cheek. The man lets out a startled noise, and Wilbur and Niki both laugh this time.

"See you, Will. Don't forget! Phil's gonna be over tomorrow. Him and the boys."

Teek and Wilbur share a look. The boys meant Tommy, who still wasn't exactly aware of Wilbur's condition. It also meant Phil, who'd gone completely Mama Bird on Wilbur within a week of finding out he was with child. He'd given Teek a list of tasks, one that they'd both left long-forgotten, pinned to a board they never checked. 

Wilbur smiles uneasily. "Of course! How could we forget..." 

Niki chuckles, and waves goodbye again, heading down the path, away from the cottage. She'd leave them to it.

They had their work cut out for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Scrapped scene) :
> 
> "I am NOT donating my guitar to the wood for this crib." Wilbur crosses his arms. He stands at about 6'4, an intimidating height to humans, but puny to Teek's 7'9. 
> 
> "I'm not saying the whole thing, just the top!" Teek protests.
> 
> "Do you know how a guitar works?-"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy more shit-tier writing!

Wilbur does not cower at the thought of his father swooping in, and evaluating his room, the room that's been hesitantly kept aside for the baby, but he certainly isn't keen on it.

Phil had always been eager to have kids, but was never quite sure how to handle them, often taking to the skies and leaving his children alone for nights on end, entrusting a diamond sword to Wilbur, who was 10, and still sporting twin braids. Only when Tumnus came around, did Phil ever try to straighten his act out, and be there for his children, perhaps realizing his faults when observing the way other Elytrians were with their chicks. The nostalgia that the high, barren cliffs of the End brought about in Phil was strange. Nobody really questioned it.

In any case, Wilbur figures that his father doesn't have much of a leg to stand on, when it comes to parenting, and 'prepping' for a baby. (Wilbur's mind flashes to his younger self, shakily hefting a diamond sword up at the woods, as Tommy squirmed about, babbling at him.)

So he wouldn't pay him any mind, though the anxious feeling that sprung up when his father visits was more persistent than usual. He attempts to tell himself it's only the hormones.

Heaving himself up off the couch, he lets out a weary breath, hand placed overtop the growing bump and beginning to rub at it, soothing the way his body screamed at him for the sudden movement. This baby was growing faster than Wilbur suspected was normal. Da'rren had only confirmed that at his last medical check-in, his gentle encouragements keeping the horridness of seeing his body so warped at bay.

It was a warped body. Every bit of him was sore with the strain, and his stomach was large, breasts sore and heavy. That was the worst part. He could almost stand the rest of it if it weren't for the heaviness of his chest. Wilbur knows he's grotesque but it feels almost..

He's knocked out of his reverie by Teek's nervous grumbling, as he pads through the door, glasses perched atop his nose. Wilbur has to stifle a laugh.

"Teek, sit down." He orders gently, surprised as the Piglin allows himself to be sat in the same chair Wilbur had just vacated. "What's got you all nerve-y?"

"I.. Wilbur. Phil's visit is today." Teek blinks at him, as if confused that the pregnant man was not in a similar state, "We didn't have anything properly prepared, and I'm, I'm like.. In charge of making sure you're okay."

Wilbur raises an eyebrow, "You all know I'm pregnant, not invalid, right?" Teek makes a noise, but before he can speak, Wilbur's trudging on, "Seriously. These past three months, everyone's just... after me like I'm dying. Like I'm just some stupid slut that got himself knocked up and doesn't know how to look after himself."

There's a few moments of silence. Teek blinks at Wilbur, brows furrowed. Wilbur pants, having gotten it all out in one breath, pacing to the kitchen.

"Wilbur.." Teek begins.

Wilbur cuts him off, "Shit. Forget I said anything. You're right, I should be more worried."

Teek lets out a snort, "Wilbur. No. Nobody thinks that of you, I mean, it doesn't even make sense to think about you like that, you.. you uh, you know the other parent, and you're going through a lot of.. change." It's painfully awkward, and slow, and at some point he realized maybe explaining away the 'slut' comment didn't matter. Because Wilbur's looking at him with the saddest eyes.

The young man's busied himself with putting a kettle on, packing some snow into the copper vessel as the furnace roars to life. But the whole time, he watches Teek, like he's just kicked a puppy, except that puppy is Teek. The Piglin isn't sure how to approach him.

So he doesn't. He lets Phil swoop in, and save the day.

\---

"So why's Wilbur gone to Teek's, then?" Tommy grumbles, as the trio trudge up the snowy hills, to reach the small cottage the aforementioned Piglin had made his residence in. The teen's teeth chatter, despite the heavy coat that he and his brother, Tumnus, had been given before they set out.

Tumnus turns to him, nubby horns glinting in the whiteout. "He's in a delicate condition." The other responds, "You remember how he fainted on that one really scary guy, or is your memory as shite as Raanan's?"

Tommy swats at him, "My memory is not shite." He responds hotly, "And watch your tongue, speakin' ill of your beloved like that!"

Tumnus lets out a wordless, indignant, and tackles Tommy into a snowdrift, wrestling for a few beats before Phil's 'Boys!' rings out. They fall silent, scrabbling off of eachother.

"I don't want neither of you'se makin' any comments, alright?" Phil looks them both in the eye, "Your brother's going through a big change. He's got a baby on the way. You'd all better treat him good."

Tommy splutters. A baby? Wilbur didn't have a girl, last he checked, and he was pretty sure that men couldn't have babies. You had to at least be married to do that. He whips around to his brother, who nods serenely, as if he'd been expecting this. "Ba-baby? Whoa, whoa, what?"

"Yes, a baby, idiot." Tumnus hisses. They begin to approach the house, "We're uncles."

Tommy had not been expecting this.

He zips his lip as the door opens, and Phil's wings come up, enveloping Wilbur in soft, thistle-colored feathers. When the wings pull back, Wilbur stands there, a hand over his stomach, which had a noticeable curve to it. And Tommy stares.

Tumnus is quick to elbow him out of it, and they hug their brother, perhaps even tighter than before. Tommy looks up at Wilbur in concern, "Big man, I heard tell of a child. Just would like to make you aware, I am the only child who matters." He deadpans, lips quirking up at the end, watching as Wilbur guffaws as well.

"Aw, still need to be tucked in, mm?" Wilbur teases, and Tommy's glad to eagerly, boisterously, deny it. Shouting and clamoring as his brothers egg him on.

The three of them don't realize that Phil and Teek have slipped away into the next room, one housing an area for the unborn child.

\---

Phil draws his wings in to step through the door, but he can't help the instinctive way they wrap around his child. His son. He buries his nose in mousy brown curls, scenting Wilbur, feeling the way his son pushes against him, eager for the comfort.

Wilbur was never a hugger.

That was his first clue that something was brewing in the man, and he was loathe to ignore it. He pulls away, allowing his other two sons, wide-eyed and hesitant, to slip into the space he had left, eager to embrace their brother after months apart.

Phil's eyes scan the room, until they fix upon his pupil, Teek. The Piglin's size is nothing to sneeze at, but he shrinks laughably small when he meets Phil's eyes. He almost laughs, though he's puzzled. He inclines his head towards the baby's (and Wilbur's) room.

Upon entering, he notices the distinct lack of furnishing. In the center, a crib was suspended like a swing, with a few furs stuffed in it. Next to it was a plush bed with matching furs, possibly wolf or fox hides. It was noticeably neat, as if it hadn't been slept in. Wilbur's guitar rested against it. Beyond that, it was an empty room, with a lantern, a desk, and curtains. He frowns, turning to Teek.

"Has he been sleeping?" Phil asks quietly. The Piglin sits, the bed dipping under his weight.

"No." Teek sighs finally, "He's always up. He eats, at least?"

Phil fixes his student with a look. And Teek grumbles.

"I'm not. I'm not- good, at the whole emotional part of this, I really.. I'm, y'know, Piglin and we don't really go through the whole .. staying with a partner for life." Teek protests, "And Wilbur's always been important to me. It's hard to watch him struggle and know there's nothing I can do."

Phil lets it hang in the air, before he settles next to Teek, huffing at the creak in his bones. "..Partner, eh?"

Teek looks away quickly, cursing under his breath, and all Phil can do is chuckle.

"Wilbur never said anything in his letters," He teases, "But he's always been a bit strange, eh?"

They lapse into silence before Teek is breaking it, awkwardly. "I wouldn't make the same mistake as uh, as whoever Sal is. If it were me."

Phil pulls back to study him, this hardened warrior. He grew up on the plains of the Nether, he was more than formidable in battle, and doubly so when it came to his survival skills. He was able to make it in thr harshest of conditions, often seeking out cold, high peaks. Phil looks at Teek and sees all he's become. But he also sees the frightened, angry Piglin child that had beat back mobs for him. He sees the Piglin child cast out by his pride. Phil's quiet for a moment, taking the rare vulnerability in. "Yeah?" He murmurs.

"Yeah." Teek bows his head.

There's quiet for a moment longer, and the sound of the boys trickles in through the wall, as well as the scent of cooking beef and mushroom stew.

"I know you wouldn't." Phil says finally, turning to leave. "You love him too much for that."

\---

Catching up with Tommy and Tumnus does wonders for Wilbur. Though the two were (very loud, very excitable) children, there was something about them that put him at ease. So, he busies himself with cooking the cuts of meat Phil had brought, smiling fondly despite himself when Tommy fusses over the stew on the furnace.

"..And he's not got a great memory, but he always remembers I like bees, and it's winter now, so there aren't many around but he spent soooo, so, long looking for one and we made an atri.." Tumnus is rambling on about an Enderman named Raanan. It makes for good background noise, but despite his focus on preparing the beef, Wilbur can't help but tease the youngest about his fondness towards him.

That's when he notices Phil and Teek emerge from the bedroom. And he sighs inwardly. Teek's got the tired slump of one who's just had to have an emotionally draining talk with the renowned Phil Craft. Phil's got this hesitance in him when he meets Wilbur's gaze, as if his son's been replaced by a charged creeper. Bitterly, the musician wishes he had been.

"Ah, so you boys went ahead with lunch..?" Phil notes, peeking over Tommy's shoulder at the stew, and receiving a hiss and swat. A motion only few could survive.

"It's just about to be ready." Wilbur answers, wiping his hands on his sweater, "I'll grab the plates."

"I'll get it, don't think you should be doin' all that in your condition, Wil." Phil interrupts, reaching up to begin taking down cutlery. Everyone stops at the same time, their skin prickling like lightning was about to strike. Tommy and Tumnus warily watch their brother as Teek watches his mentor.

"I'm only at three months. Perfectly capable of managing this on my own, thanks." Wilbur responds curtly. He takes the materials, and begins plating, setting them down on the table with the harsh sound of clattering ceramic. Teek idly mourns his plate.

"Oh, come off it, Wil. You know I don't mean anything by it." Phil protests. The children slide into their seats next to Wilbur, and Teek clears his throat, sitting with Phil. "I'm lookin' out for you."

"Well. I don't need it." Wilbur mutters.

"Wilbur."

"Phil."

Dinner passes uneasily, and as soon as they finish, Tommy and Tumnus are immediately after Teek to take them to the greenhouse, all of them eager to leave the prickling environment that had been brewing between Phil and Wilbur.

Finally, with a clatter, Phil throws down his spoon. "Right. What on Earth's the matter with you?" Wilbur continues to eat, ducking his head. "I get it, it sucks to go through this, but we are trying to help you. This was your mistake, and I honestly shouldn't be punished for something you've gone and done yourself." Phil continues, "I'm tryin' my best here. So's everyone else. You have got to be patient."

Wilbur stiffens. "Gone and done to myself?" He asks quietly.

"Yes. Ultimately." Phil replies, in a clipped tone that suggests he's regretting his word choice, wings drooping with regret.

"I.. don't think I want to be having this conversation anymore." Wilbur says finally, getting up from the table. He shuffles to his room, with Phil calling after him. Sound goes murky, as if he's plunged underwater, and he's glad for it.

The door shuts behind him, and he places a hand to his mouth, sliding down against the bed. His shoulders shake.

Phil, Tommy, and Tumnus leave.

\---

Whenever Wilbur finishes his hormone-fueled sobbing session, he's thirsty and sleepy, head slumped against the wall as he gently paws some blankets together, a nest of fabric on the ground. With only minor grunts of discomfort, he situates himself comfortably.

"You know, you get harder to stay sober with every day." He grumbles to his unborn child, "You're a very lucky child, I love you too much to pull any foolishness." A steady pulse is the only response he receives, as he expected, sighing softly.

The door squeaks open, and a glass of water is pushed into his hands. Wilbur doesn't protest, sipping at it until the patient hands have deemed the amount he's had enough, and now pick him up, settling him into the bed.

He whines as the warm body moves to leave, exhausted and emotional, desperate for contact. He's not even entirely sure how present he is mentally, grabbing their wrist to tug them back.

For all Wilbur's efforts, he gets a quiet "Sleep, Wilbur."

And who is he to disobey?


End file.
